


Some Things Better Left Unsaid

by CranberryCider



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Gender-Neutral Reader??, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, it doesn't go into detail, just vaguely mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:54:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26330704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CranberryCider/pseuds/CranberryCider
Summary: You wake up in the middle of the night to find Eddie having a nightmare
Relationships: Eddie Gluskin/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Some Things Better Left Unsaid

**Author's Note:**

> What's up, it's ya boi, back at it with another story in which we love on a fictional character that we would have absolutely no chance with if they were real, you know how it is. I know a lot of people see Eddie as problematic, and I agree, but I also don't care very much. Please enjoy this sad boy fic and let me know if you (like me) are into it and wanna see more.
> 
> As always, any and all critiques are welcome as you're helping me improve my writing by doing so. Thanks!

I woke to the sound of Eddie breathing heavily next to me. It was easy enough to ignore at first, simply reaching over and taking his hand in mine. I feel his head tossing back and forth against the pillow. I turn over and press my lips to his shoulder, leaving soft kisses there. His breaths start coming out in small whimpers and I’m forced to open my eyes.

I’m immediately awake when I see his face. His jaw is clenched, tears are streaming down his face and he’s pale. I sit up, one of my hands scratching at his scalp while the other brushes his cheek. I trace over his scars hoping it would calm him a bit. Instead, he jerks away, turning his back to me and curling into the fetal position.

He’s been tense lately, likely because his (thankfully late) father’s birthday is coming up. He still doesn’t like to talk about it, but he’s told me about how his father would make him ‘say Happy Birthday’. It’s part of the reason he hates celebrating his own. Therapy has done wonders for healing his mind, but there were some things he’d always struggle with. 

He’s muttering under his breath now and I lean in, trying to hear what he’s saying. I hear the words, “Stop” and “Leave me alone”. My hand moves down to touch his shoulder when he shoots out of bed, his elbow striking me in the face as he stands. My vision goes white for a moment, my hands covering my nose as I cry out. He doesn’t notice, flailing as he tries to get untangled from the blankets.

“Nonono! Get the fuck away from me, fucking bastards!” he screams, tripping over the rug as he scrambles for the door. He’s in a full-blown panic, his breathing ragged, eyes wide and searching all around the room. He spots me on the bed and stares for a moment. I’m holding back tears, knowing that if he sees me crying it’ll make things worse. 

Suddenly, his face turns into a scowl and he crosses the room before I have time to react. 

“Fucking whore, you let them leave? You sat there, doing nothing, and then you let them get away with it!” He snatches me by the wrist and drags me to the floor. I hurry to try and crawl away before he can grab me again.

“Eddie, honey stop! It’s okay, please stop!” My voice is shaking as I turn to face him. We’re in opposite corners of the room, staring at each other for a moment while we catch our breaths. He starts pacing back and forth around the room, keeping his distance. I can hear him trying to calm himself down, repeating the little mantras that the doctors had taught him. They only ever seem to work half the time, and I can tell that this is not one of those times.

I gather up the courage to approach him. His face changes again, he’s scared of me. He starts backing away, falling over and scrambling backward. 

“Please don’t, I’m sorry…” he says, pushing himself beside the nightstand. I kneel down in front of him and hold out my hand. He refuses to look at me, having been taught from a young age that eye contact can be seen as an invitation.

“You’re okay, hun. They’re gone.” My hand takes his and he flinches. He risks a glance in my direction, fully turning when he sees it’s me. Tears well up in his eyes as he brings me close to him, muttering apologies as he rocks me back and forth. He’s holding so tight it almost hurts. I hold him back, leaving small kisses along the underside of his jaw.

A few minutes later and his breathing finally evens out. I look up to see him knocked out again. Trying to get up only results in him grabbing me tighter, scared of losing me even in his sleep. I know I should wake him up, his back will be killing him by tomorrow morning. At the same time, there’s a chance that if I let him sleep, he won’t remember any of this. One less thing for him to be constantly apologizing for.

I tuck my head under his chin and close my eyes, letting the beating of his heart and deep breathing lull me to sleep.


End file.
